Quinn had changed. For some time at least. For some time Quinn Fabray was showing a side of herself not many ever got to see. A side that was her, Quinn Fabray. Not Cheerio. Not Tubbers. Not Finn's girlfriend. But Quinn Fabray. And for some time Glee Club was proud of her. Not many voiced it, in fact Mr. Schuester and Rachel Berry had only shown any sign of pride in her change, but it was something, and for a while that was enough. But one phone call, one police investigation, hidden well by Russell Fabray as to keep their family name proud and happy, one letter changed it all; and pride just wasn't good enough anymore.

Quinn didn't want pride from her classmates. She didn't want the smiles people gave her when she walked in the room. She didn't even want friends anymore. She wanted her sister. She wanted Frannie. God she wanted Frannie.

In the days following her suicide, Quinn resorted back to what she knew. Sarcasm, teasing. Her words towards Rachel were short; she tried to keep them neutral. Rachel. Rachel was innocent, so pure, and so kind. If she ever….if Frannie was ever repeated, Quinn would be the next in line.

She didn't even know. She had no idea how much she'd miss her, how badly it'd hurt. All Quinn's life she'd been jealous of Frannie, all Quinn's life she'd wished to be her, she wished to have that life, go to a top notch school, have her own life away from daddy and mom. But now, now Quinn didn't even know if she knew what life Frannie actually had. She hadn't a clue apparently. She glorified Frannie, much like her own father. Quinn made this image of her sister, one that held her on a pedestal.

If only she knew. Jesus Christ if only she knew. She wouldn't have held her so high, wouldn't have thought so much of her. She would have seen her as equal. But every day something knew was thrown in Quinn's face. "You'll never guess what Frannie achieved this semester." "Oh what a wonderful new trophy," "Frannie won her third consecutive year in cross country." Every day the pedestal got higher. Every day Quinn grew more jealous. And every day she knew less and less about her own flesh and blood.

It was all a slap to the face. The day the letter came, the night Quinn couldn't cry, the morning she couldn't eat.

A letter.

One letter with just a few paragraphs on it. Just a letter and it made Quinn's entire world crash around her. 'My darling girl'. That's what Frannie called her. Her darling girl. Hers. Quinn was Frannie's and not once did Quinn ever call Frannie her sister. It was always Frannie. Never, 'My sister, Frannie,' 'The girl that I shared a room with until I was six, Frannie,' 'my older sister,' 'Frannie, my sister,'

My darling girl.

The words taunted her everyday. And to rid herself of this guilt, of the pain, of the anger and despair and every horrible feeling Quinn held inside her body, she lashed out. She forced her way back on the Cheerios, she scolded, she shouted, she threw fits. But she never bullied. She couldn't. The consequences were…she couldn't have a Frannie repeat. Not because of her. Not from her words.

Rachel Berry. She taunted Quinn almost as much as the opening sentence in that letter did. Every night Quinn had nightmares, ones with Rachel blaming her. Rachel always blamed Quinn every night for everything, and then, forced her to watch as she turned a gun to her own head.

And each morning Quinn would call off the slushie attack, she'd glare at Santana, she'd knee Karofsky where it hurt the most, and even agreed to a date with Azimo just to keep Rachel safe. Rachel had to stay safe. Dear God, please let today be easy for her.

The diva had begun to notice a little bit of the blonde's attention. Each day she'd catch those hazel green eyes on her in History, in Glee Quinn sat the same distance away. One row up and one chair over. Those eyes bore into her if anyone spoke to the diva too. If anyone dared to say something hurtful, dared to call her annoying, Quinn Fabray was right there, calling them out on a habit they had, calling them out on what a horrible person they could be. Slowly Rachel Berry became Quinn's life. The only reason she could find a reason to stay breathing.

Protect the girl. Protect her like she couldn't protect Frannie.

It'd never make up for it. It would never bring Frannie back but it would keep Rachel with her. Rachel would live to breathe the air for another day and that's all Quinn needed.

Weeks went on with this same routine, Quinn had almost gone up to stalker status, leaning against a wall, filing her nails, Finn eyeing her as he stood next to his girlfriend, Rachel confused and yet somehow comforted by the protective side coming out of the blonde. She hadn't questioned it yet; at the moment the only portion Rachel questioned was why it felt so good. Why, when she had a boyfriend that could be doing the exact same thing, did it feel even better that Quinn Fabray was playing her knight? Though the answer always came minutes later.

It was Quinn Fabray.

That was Rachel's answer.

Quinn Fabray post high school bully had somehow become Rachel's own silent body guard, and it felt nice. It felt good. It felt safe. Safer than Finn's arms, safer than Pucks hold. Safer than Gabby, her stuffed bear that Daddy had given to her the day she was born. And nothing had ever been safer than Gabby.

Finn on the other hand was tired of it. Every time Quinn was around the hairs on the end of his neck stood up, his eyes grew shifty, and he found speaking harder to do. It felt as if he was the one being stalked. As if he was the target, as if he was the one Quinn was after.

It had been weeks and he'd had enough. "Why are you stalking me? It's not cute anymore, it's just plain freaky. I used to have to check for Rachel under my bed, but now it's you. Under my bed, in my closet. You're freaking me and Rachel out so just leave us alone already." He shouted in the middle of the hall, gaining gazes from all around him.

"I'm not stalking anyone." Quinn deadpanned, not at all surprised by the rasp and scratch at her throat. It had been days since she last spoke. These things happened.

"Bullshit."

"Finn,"

"No, Rachel, I'm done with her. She's following us, keeping tabs, and I want to know why. I'm not just going to pretend I don't see you anymore. What's with you?"

But Quinn never answered, instead her phone bleeped, she took one glance at it, and walked away. Not after giving Rachel one final look over of course.